


Albus Knew

by entropyalwaysincreases



Series: Les Cousins Dangereux [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cousincest, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entropyalwaysincreases/pseuds/entropyalwaysincreases
Summary: Molly wondered. Hermione worried. Albus knew. Snapshots of a dangerous game.





	1. Molly Wondered

Molly wondered. 

It was summertime, and the lot of them were out watching fireworks on the small, grassy knoll that overlooked the Burrow. She had come back to the kitchen to prepare the pudding—several pies, a bowl of whipped cream, and a heaping plate of biscuits. She stopped to admire them all silhouetted against the setting sun, her children and grandchildren laughing and pointing at some wretched new thing of George’s creation.

As she levitated the plates to the table, she examined them in turn more closely, and she felt old. Her children were parents, grandparents even; even Ginny was starting to go grey. She had always measured time in family, and it suddenly seemed to slip between her fingers so that she wanted to hold each and every one of them to her chest and stop them from growing up and out of her control. 

Her eyes fell to the youngest of the bunch—Lily, who was blooming at just-14, Hugo, looking gawky but good-natured, James and Rose, standing a little ways behind everyone. Poor Albus, always shoved in with them but never quite included. Born at the very end of August, just before the cut-off for Hogwarts, he and Rose had ended up in the same year, even though she and James were closer in age. It was a pity, Molly reflected. It might have been better for the lot of them if they’d each had their own year and their own group of friends, instead of Al always trying to play catch-up. 

As she watched, James leaned over to whisper something in Rose’s ear, tucking away a strand of her hair as he did so. There was a sort of intimacy to it, and watching Rose giggle at whatever he said, Molly wondered whether even the youngest of her clan were growing up too fast, spinning farther and farther out of control. 

James straightened up, caught Rose by the waist and tugged her into him. They watched the renewed vigor of the fireworks displays in the deepening twilight, and, entwined and beautiful as they were, Molly decided to stop wondering. 

The pudding was sure to be delicious.


	2. Hermione Worried

Hermione worried.

Summer was always a chaotic whirlwind of family gatherings and sleepovers and last-minute trips to God knows where, and half the time it seemed she didn’t know where her children were sleeping that night. She thought it might get easier as they got older, but really there were only more opportunities to get into trouble, and with James’ shiny new apparition license, Hermione never stopped worrying about where they might end up and with whom.

Mrs. Weasley— _Molly_ , twenty-some years on and Hermione still couldn’t break herself of the habit—had graciously invited Rose and Hugo to stay at the Burrow while she and Ron were abroad, but Hermione still couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible might happen.

“Relax,” Ron said as they walked out of the Apparition checkpoint in Sydney. “It’s not as if there weren’t plenty of dangers at Hogwarts, not to mention a _complete_ lack of supervision…”

“But they couldn’t apparate half-way around the world in an instant!” Hermione responded shrilly. “They could be in Sri Lanka right now! Consorting with murderers and—and hags! And back before dinner with no one the wiser!”

“Hags?” Ron said, amused. “Come on, James is a good bloke…”

“You _know_ the things he gets up to at school…”

“No worse than Fred and George ever did, and Rose will put him right. She wouldn’t do anything stupid…”

“I don’t know, when they’re together…” Hermione said doubtfully. “But maybe I ought to worry more about Hugo. You know they’ll leave him at the Burrow and then he’ll fall in with Fred or Louis and they’ll be acting like right hooligans…”

“Maybe you ought not to worry at all. They’ll be fine. After all, if _we_ can make it to adulthood…”

“It was a near thing,” she interjected darkly.

They caught a cab to Hermione’s parents’ house in a neat little suburb outside the city. Mr. and Mrs. Granger hadn’t wanted to move back to England after Hermione fixed their memories; in the year and a half they’d lived as the Wilkins they’d made a life, and sometimes still had issues separating their real identities from their assumed ones. Hermione had fretted about her botched memory charm removal, but in the end it might have been a good thing. Their house had been destroyed during the war, and they’d taken over a hugely successful dentistry practice while in Australia.

Mr. Granger came out to meet them.

“No bags?” he exclaimed. “Oh yes, you have your little Mary Poppins pouch. How was your, er--?”

“Apparition,” Ron supplied. “Uneventful. Though Hermione’s convinced that the children will be consorting with hags while we’re gone…”

Mr. Granger’s eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Is that a real possibility?”

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “No, dad. I’m just overreacting.” She paused. “But really, Ron, don’t you think we ought to at least try and telephone your father? I set up that Muggle line for him in the shed…”

Ron shook his head and wrapped his arms around her from behind, barreling her the rest of the way into the house.

They had a pleasant time during their week stay. They went to the Sydney Opera House, where the Grangers had season tickets, then out to dinner at one of the nicer restaurants in town. Hermione did have to admit that it was relaxing, especially after the rigors of passing recent legislature.

“See? Ten times nicer than if we’d brought them with us,” Ron said one evening as they strolled through downtown. “Can you imagine? Rose being petulant over where she wanted to eat and Hugo dying to get back to his broom…”

Hermione managed a smile. “Why did we even have children?”

“To make us grandparents, of course!” Mrs. Granger interjected enthusiastically. “If they get too much for you, feel free to ship them off to us!”

“You know, we should remember that as a threat,” Ron said.

“We’ll have to fly you out sometime,” Hermione said. “Rose only has two more years of school left, after all…”

“And after that, what does she do?” Mr. Granger queried. “You lot don’t go to University in any case…”

“Probably something to do with the Ministry. Her marks are good enough—12 O.W.L.’s,” Ron said proudly. “One more than her mum.”

“She mentioned something about wanting to go into International Relations,” Hermione said, ignoring this. “So she might go abroad.”

“Follow James around on his Quidditch schedule, more like,” Ron muttered.

“And James is the… boyfriend?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“No, no,” Hermione said hurriedly. “Cousin. Harry and Ginny’s oldest, remember?”

“Mmm,” said Mrs. Granger. “Yes. Silly me. Attached at the hip, are they?”

“Always,” replied Hermione. “I don’t know what she’ll do when he leaves school… he’s only got a year left.”

“Make do with Albus,” Ron suggested.

“Ron!”

“What? It’s true!”

“Does she not like Albus?” Mr. Granger asked.

“No, no, they get along fine—he’s the cousin in her grade, James’ younger brother. It’s just not quite the same.”

“Poor Al,” Ron added.

“Yes,” said Hermione. “Poor Al.”

Hermione’s worries returned as they drew closer to home.

“You know, I don’t think hags even eat children over the age of ten,” Ron said, but she was not to be comforted, and so they went immediately to the Burrow after arriving back in England, even though it was still quite early in the morning.

Molly fussed over them when they walked in, but Hermione shook her off and made her way up the stairs to find her children.

“Hugo is in Percy’s old room, and I believe Rose took over the attic, dear!” Molly called up after her.

She found Hugo sure enough, though he was quite grumpy to be woken up so early. (“Mum, geroff!”) After deciding that he bore no noticeable signs of mistreatment, malnourishment, or indeed hag bites, she climbed another few flights of stairs in pursuit of Rose.

The attic was empty.

Panic rising—she _knew_ something had gone wrong—she worked her way back down, checking rooms as she went. Perhaps Molly misremembered the room, perhaps Rose had risen early and was in the garden, perhaps—

She had opened the door to Ginny’s old room—still hung with a Hollyhead Harpies poster—to find Rose. With James. In bed. Sound asleep.

She observed them for a moment—his arm slung over her casually, possessively. Her flaming hair fanned out over the pillow. He, quite shirtless. _And well-muscled and a seventeen-year-old boy_ , she thought to herself.

She thought back to her mother’s words just a few days ago—“the…boyfriend?” Of course that was how this would look to an outsider. But really, to anyone who knew them, this wasn’t nearly as incriminating—Rose was still fully dressed at least, and James appeared to be wearing bottoms, and they were _cousins_ after all…

She sighed to herself and moved to Rose’s side.

“Rose!” she whispered, prodding her gently. Rose opened her eyes slowly and stared at her blearily.

“Mum?”

“We’re back!” she tried to say excitedly. “Erhm… why are you in here?”

“Oh…” Rose looked around her and seemed to notice James’ arm, which she moved gently off of her. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Hermione nodded. It was true they’d often climb into bed together when they were younger when they were frightened or sad. Suddenly she wished they were young again, of a more manageable size.

“Well come on, Dad’s waiting to see you too!” No way was she leaving them in here together.

Rose heaved herself off the bed and stretched, then followed her mother onto the landing.

Hermione steeled herself. “Rose…”

Rose looked at her.

“Maybe…in the future, you ought to…stop doing that.” Rose looked confused. “I mean, with James—you have to know how it looks…”

Rose turned a bright red. “Mum, you know I—we—we’re not—“ She spluttered and looked down at her feet.

“I know!” Hermione said quickly. “I know you’re not— _that_ …” God forbid. “I just think you ought to know how it _looks_ …”

Rose nodded quickly and set off down the stairs. Hermione closed the door behind her.

Hermione worried. But she hadn’t realized she’d have to worry about this.


	3. Albus Knew

Albus knew.

He knew before he flooed in on them accidentally, in their small Seattle apartment, Rose propped on the counter, one leg bent so her foot rested on James’ shoulder, her hand fisted in his hair, his head firmly between her thighs. Dithering for a moment on their sooty fireplace rug, he tried to decide the best course of action. He should leave, he knew, but he didn’t spot any Floo powder and he was determined not to look at them, Rose’s flushed, shocked expression as she cried “Albus!” or even worse, James’ face, mouth open in horror, his mouth visibly shiny with unknown fluids. Too late, he’d looked. The apartment door to his left opened to a flight of external stairs that were snow covered and slippery.

He found he was breathing hard, his breath frosting in the frigid air, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as he trudged aimlessly down the street. Stupid bloody idjits, what were they thinking, when anyone could have seen. They had a fucking Floo connection for Merlin’s sake, it could’ve been much worse than him--Lily perhaps, or Grandmum, or, bloody hell-- _ Ron. _

He shook his head at their stupidity and tried to ignore just how cold he was. He hadn’t bothered with a cloak for a quick Floo trip--he tended to singe any drapery he carried with him through the fireplace--and this was a Muggle neighborhood, he couldn’t very well whip out his wand and magick up some gloves, or better yet, a heating charm. There was a small park not three blocks from their apartment and here he squatted moodily, huffing his breath into his hands and watching geese peck around the edges of the frozen pond.

This wasn’t the first time he’d caught them, though they didn’t know that; they thought they were sneaky, moving to America together, sharing an apartment-- _ It just makes sense! _ Rose with her shining job as wizarding liaison to the United Nations office and James as starting Seeker for the Seattle Tsunamis. Their names dogged them even here, Albus knew, and that would explain the Muggle neighborhood they’d settled in, near the University so they were just another couple of stupid kids in love.

“Albus?” James stood a dozen paces from him, hands in his pockets, wearing a desperate, worried expression, so uncharacteristic. He didn’t seem cold; he’d probably had time to cast a warming spell before leaving the apartment, or Rose had, for him. It was definitely she who’d made sure his face was clean. “Look, can we talk?”

Albus considered for a second saying no, disapparating and letting them think he was off to tell. It would serve them right, for being so goddamn  _ obvious _ . But at this point he felt complicit in their... whatever this was. He  _ was _ complicit, after years of not saying anything, letting it happen under his nose, covering for them when their giddiness made them stupid. Fuck, why had  _ he _ been so stupid?

“You two are such fucking idiots.” He stood and brushed himself off, following James back the apartment where, at least, it was warmer.

Rose hovered nervously, forcing cups of tea into everyone’s hands and perching on the arm of the sofa, as far across the room from James as possible. When nobody spoke, she started out in a tremulous voice, so unlike her usual commanding tone. “I know this must have come as quite a shock--”

“I already knew,” Albus muttered, staring into his tea as if he’d quite like to drown himself in it. 

Rose’s eyebrows rose on her forehead. “You--?”

“Since when?” James cut in, and Albus considered how to answer.

It was in fact quite a difficult question. Perhaps he should say from the beginning, though when had that been exactly? As toddlers, or perhaps around puberty when things became a great deal less cousinly. Certainly he’d known when they’d become physical, if only intuitively at first, and then confirmed when he’d walked past an empty classroom they’d commandeered in James’ last year at Hogwarts. He crossed his legs uncomfortably at  _ that _ particular memory, hating himself and hating them a lot more, for how long he’d watched, for the sick fantasies they’d given him.

“Years,” he said bluntly, leaving it to their interpretation. “I’ve always known.”

James seemed shocked, whether at the professed knowledge or the fact that he hadn’t told anyone Albus couldn’t be sure. Rose just looked at him, like she wasn’t surprised really.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No,” he replied, but she already knew that. Rose had always been unusually good at getting what she wanted, unusually good at misdirecting questions or concealing her motives. At times Albus wondered if it were less personality trait and more a subtle power, a small magical talent. It seemed to work on everyone except him. “But it’s only a matter of time. Disconnect your fucking Floo if you’re going to do that in the kitchen.” 

They were all three silent for a time, sipping their tea and gradually relaxing into their seats. Rose slipped off the sofa arm and into the cushions, her feet ending up in James’ lap. Albus couldn’t help the knot of jealousy that rose in his throat as he watched them, even now, even knowing the impossible situation they had gotten themselves into. Always half a step behind them, certainly closer to either of them than anyone else was, but it may as well have been light-years. Bitterly he remembered that  _ this  _ was the two months where their ages aligned, something that had been oh-so-important in their younger years. Both 20 now, and he still stuck in his teens for nearly another year. 

He didn’t think he was  _ attracted _ to Rose, exactly, though he’d lingered by the door of that classroom listening to her breathy moans and imagined it was  _ he _ who pushed her up against the teacher’s desk, who sucked a bruise on the side of her neck, who dragged a hand up under her skirt and pressed a finger into her sex. He couldn’t will James gone, though, even from his fantasy. Somehow it wasn’t Rose he hungered after, it was  _ them _ , the regular unobtainment they’d always danced around him, but made perverse and twisted by unnatural love. They had each other, and oh how he wanted it, incest and all.

“Are you going to tell?” James didn’t look at him, rather focused intently on the design of his tea cup. Albus opened his mouth, nearly in indignation--of course he wouldn’t, he hadn’t yet, had he? It occurred to him, though, maybe he should.

For their own sakes, a tip off to the family and the ensuing shame, but a quiet one. Hermione certainly would know how to hush it up, break them apart, set everything to rights without ruining them. For ruined they would be-- Albus could see their future clearly, stretched out in front of them. Rose rising in government, James’ Quidditch fame growing, even here, in the land of Quodpot. Their dubious explanation for living together, for the lack of significant others, wouldn’t be accepted forever--the glare from the media would grow harsher as they eclipsed their hereditary fame. Everything they built, everything they became, could crumble in an instant.

But Albus knew he wouldn’t tell. He loved them too much, and he loved  _ them _ , and he couldn’t ruin that, no, better to let them ruin themselves, if they would. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Rose’s whatever-it-was was enough to protect them.

“No, mate,” Albus sighed. “Just be more careful, okay? You won’t just be hurting yourselves, you know? If you get caught.”

They insisted he stay for dinner and then sent him back through the fireplace. He promised to visit again soon, but he had his own job to think about, with the Auror office, and it was through Lily that he heard Rose had found her own apartment, that James had a slew of girlfriends that never seemed to last. It was his mother who told him, a few years later, that Rose was pregnant. 

“Some one-night-stand,” she said, her mouth twisting a little in amusement, like she could picture Hermione’s face when she found out.

“What is she going to do?”

“Keep it, I suppose. James is out there, in any case. He’ll help her out.”

Albus nodded, then wrapped his arms around his mother, reading the letter over her shoulder. He mourned a little, for the excitement she didn’t feel over her first grandchild. They’d all love it regardless, of course, as Rose’s. Any of James’ features would be easily explained away, helped by their willful ignorance. 

“It’ll be strange, for the child,” Ginny said sadly. “Not to know who its father is.”

Maybe none of them ever would. 

But Albus knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Nice to see you in this twisted corner of fandom. 
> 
> So I finally finished this work, which to be honest was not at all a cohesive thing at the beginning but rather some junk I found in the fanfiction folder on my Google Drive. Rose is Here was part of a much longer story that I pared down because it was a little too unwieldy and also I have a number of wildly varying James/Rose headcanons that were not reconciled within that fic. I might add a smut piece into the Les Cousins Dangereaux series, but otherwise I want to start working on an actual epic and see how it goes.
> 
> I started one I'm hoping to finish one up in the last two months I’m working at my job (I'm gonna peace out in May and travel for a bit and then head off to grad school). It’s a darker fic, with a lot more plot, and if I were not a piece of shit and could actually sit down and write everything that I’ve ever planned out, it would be the start of like a three-part series that spanned their lives and the development of the Muggle-magical geopolitical landscape of the mid-21st century. (The fun thing with Rose/James is they’re actually doing all this shit in the near future, so it’s a good opportunity to explore my futurist quasi-projections and freak out a little about the direction the world is currently heading.)
> 
> I absolutely loved hearing from everyone who commented on this and Rose is Here, which I honestly thought had an audience of about zero, so thank you! Let me know what you thought about this one!


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